


Of Coffee and Particle Accelerators

by irishfino



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, coffee shop AU, westwells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishfino/pseuds/irishfino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris works her way through college at Jitters. Harrison is addicted to coffee. They were bound to meet at some point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Italian Suit Guy and Cardigan Man

                “I don’t have change for this, sir,” Iris says as politely as possibly.

                It’s six o’clock in the morning and Jitters has quite literally just opened its doors for the day. The man in front of her is impeccably dressed, his suit a snappy black Italian number, his hair perfectly coifed, and his glasses shiny and ready for the day. Immediately, his face sours and she sees just how ugly this customer is about to get.

                “What do you mean you don’t have change for a hundred?” the customer snaps.

                Iris affects her best customer service voice even as she desires nothing more than to strangle the guy.

                “I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve only just opened and I don’t have that kind of change in the till,” she says sweetly.

                “This is bullshit! Where’s the manager?”

                Ah, the words that customers use when they think they’ll get their way. Typical. The manager, having heard the entire conversation from behind Iris, effortlessly slips in front of her in a practiced move that only retail workers can truly understand. She moves to the second register and beckons the next customer in line over. Naturally, the person at the rear of the line moves to the front of her register. Iris stares at the customer as they nonchalantly take their time reading over the menu.

                “I’m sorry,” she says, “I meant the next customer in line. The one who was behind the customer at the other register.”

                “Yeah, whatever, I’m in a hurry lady,” the customer snaps.

                It’s six o’five and Iris is already regretting her life choices.

                At ten, Iris is finally released from the register for a lunch break. She’s tempted to grab a quick bite here then lie down on the couch in the break room until she stops hating the fussy customers that stop in, but, since that will never happen, it’s better to order a sandwich from Fast Sandwiches and hang out in the loft seating, pretending she’s a customer while she eats her damn sandwich. If she had a dollar for every time a customer brought in food from somewhere else, ordered a coffee, then sat down and ate their foreign food she’d be so rich she could probably buy S.T.A.R. Labs and turn it into a center for abused retail workers. If only.

                The next day Mr. Italian Suit is back with his damn one-hundred-dollar bill as if his complaint from the day before had any effect on their policies. He raises a stink, sending every customer behind him into a fit of groans, smacked lips, and watch checking. He’s basically throwing a tantrum in the middle of a coffee shop because he can’t get change for his hundred when he couldn’t the day before. The manager is close to booting him out of the shop when a man dressed in dark jeans and a grey shirt with a black cardigan on walks up to the register, plops down two one hundred dollar bills and asks if he can pay for the next few coffees. The man in the Italian suit picks a fight.

                “I wouldn’t have to do this if you bothered to take to heart the exchange from yesterday,” the Cardigan Man grumbles. He slips on a pair of glasses; the top half of the frame is black while the bottom half is clear plastic. He squints at Italian Suit Guy, measuring him up then nods. “Get your coffee and go. And, next time, bring smaller bills instead of flaunting your ego around. It’s annoying and no one cares.”

                Italian Suit Guy has the foresight to shut up and grab his coffee from the serving board on the other side of the register. Cardigan Man returns to his place in line and is out the door with his coffee before Iris can thank him. What a sweet, lovely man to verbally slap Italian Suit Guy in the face and brighten her day. If only there were more customers like him in the world. Or at least in this damn coffee shop. Oh, well, it was a bright spot in her otherwise horrible work day.

                The next day Cardigan Man comes in with his daughter. She knows this because the young lady keeps rolling her eyes and groaning “Dad” at whatever Cardigan Man is talking about.

                “Good morning,” Cardigan Man says happily.

                “Large dark roast, no room for cream, right?” Iris asks. He grins and nods. “And for you?”

                “A strawberry smoothie, please,” Cardigan Man’s daughter replies.

                “A smoothie? It’s six in the morning and freezing outside,” Cardigan Man says incredulously.

                “I had that energy drink in the car, dad.”

                “Alright, fine. Eat before you dive into the books.”

                And there’s the eye roll again. Iris gives Cardigan Man the total before directing them to the serving board.

                “So,” Cardigan Man’s daughter says loudly, “is that the pretty barista you rescued the other day?” Iris wants to run, but with the long line getting longer she has no choice but to forge ahead and pretend she’s totally not eavesdropping on an abnormally loud conversation just feet from her.

                “You should totally ask her out.”

                “No. Nope. Not appropriate. She’s at work and I’m not going to be ‘that guy,’ Jess. And this is the only coffee shop in town that I like. I’m not risking a bad relationship with the staff here.”

                The rest of their conversation is thankfully drowned out by the blender, but Iris can't help but wonder what her response would be. It takes her all of a few seconds to realize that she would say “No” because she’s at work and that’s just an awkward situation that could become a very bad situation if things went sour for any reason. She totally spends the rest of the day not imagining Cardigan Man asking her out on a date and then what would happen on the date. Totally did not happen. At all. Not even once. Okay, so it happened. It’s not her fault. He’s got those killer baby blues and dimples! And his hair is that strange bedhead crazy that looks amazing on certain people. Plus, he treated her like a human being while she worked and that was hot. Sure, it was a low bar for hotness, but being treated like a person instead of a wage slave meant to sling coffee and take abuse was the hottest thing. Oh, god, tomorrow morning might be awkward. Wait, no, she had tomorrow off. Yes! Crisis averted for now! And tomorrow she was hanging out with Barry on a tour of S.T.A.R. Labs. It was going to be a great day!


	2. Lead the Tour, Get the Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison leads a special tour at S.T.A.R. Labs and secures a date with Iris all while being a nervous ball of fluffy hair and caffeine.

                “Ah, yes, I’m Harrison Wells, would you like to – do you want to – nope.”

                Harrison can’t get the Jitters barista out of his mind. Iris. Her nametag said Iris. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. No, focus man. Focus on the mirror. This is just like giving a speech. Except that it’s to one person. And you’re asking that person out. And that person could say no and turn your romantically inclined feelings to dust. Perhaps he was just thinking with his penis. Or the part of the brain that controlled the penis. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell in lust at first sight. Then again, he fell in lust with Tess at first sight and they went on to get married and have the smartest daughter on the entire planet. He should let it go. Approaching a woman he barely knew because she was nice to him at her job would be in poor taste. He soothed himself with the thought that he’d get to see her pretty smiling face in the mornings when he grabbed his coffee before his trip to S.T.A.R. Labs. That would have to be enough.

                As fate, the fickle bitch, would have it Iris was off this morning. What luck. What awful, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad luck. He was still nice to the barista who assisted him in his daily acquisition of caffeine, there was no point in lashing out at a retail worker. No, he’d save that anger for an employee screwing up on the job.

                The moment Harrison’s booted foot hit the pavement that made up his parking spot the entirety of S.T.A.R. Labs stood at attention. Everyone greeted him with a smile if they made eye contact and many avoided it unless he called to them by name to discuss something or other. It was still early yet, but science never slept. After his morning coffee he changed into his business attire: a simple black suit, shined up black shoes, and a crisp white button down. Today was a tour day, after all, and he needed to look somewhat presentable. He even brushed his hair into a mostly respectable style. At eleven he made his way down to the main entrance via the wonderfully polished stairs the led from the second flood to the first. It was always a bit fun to hear the gasps and whispers as the tour guide announced the presence of the founder and CEO of S.T.A.R. Labs. He enjoyed the good rubbing his ego received. Imagine his surprise when he recognized a face in the crowd. He inclined his head to her and smiled before turning his attention to the group assembled. There were about thirty people, not too shabby for a weekday tour group. In tours such as these he usually followed the group around for a few minutes, listening to the guide and offering a few quips here and there, but, this time, he took over the tour. The guide didn’t seem to mind, in fact she was rather entertained and went along with it. No doubt she would spread this little tidbit around the Labs, but that didn’t matter, he was used to the gossip that bred in this place.

                He concluded the tour to a round of applause followed by a few questions that weren’t brought up during the trip through the Labs. Eventually, the group dispersed save for a select few including Iris and a very lanky young man with her. They seemed quite friendly with one another. Perhaps he was her boyfriend. Well, at least the tour saved him the trouble of embarrassing himself and her as well. Ah, well, better luck next time. Oh. She’s coming over. Quick, Harrison, do something sexy!

                “Well hello there, large dark roast, no room for cream,” Iris says. Practically purrs really.

                “Hi,” Harrison squeaks. He clears his throat. “I mean, hello.” Shit. But Iris laughs a little and it’s the most melodic sound he’s ever heard. “Come here often?”

                She chuckles. “This is my first time. Barry’s been dying to come and he finally got a day off to do it. Again. He loves coming here on the off chance he’ll meet the great Harrison Wells. Which is you.”

                “Which is me.” He smiles. This is going well so far.

                “Would you mind signing something for him?” she asks. His smile droops a little. Damn. Oh well. Better luck next time.

                “Go on a date with me,” he blurts. _Fuck_.

                Iris arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Is that a condition of getting an autograph out of you?” He can hear the challenge in her voice.

                “What? No. I’m not like that. I’ll sign whatever he wants regardless of your answer.”

                “What if he wants you to sign his ass?”

                “I know a little sign language, I could sign ‘ass’ if he desperately wanted me to,” he quips. There’s that wonderful laughter again. “Tell him to bring the book he’s strangling between his hands and I’ll sign it.”

                Iris gives him a wide, toothy smile before waving Barry over. The boy practically gallops over, book clutched between his two hands. Harrison offers the boy his hand to shake.

                “Harrison Wells,” he says in greeting.

                “Oh, my _god_. I – I mean, yeah, I know!” Barry says nervously. “I – I’m Barry Allen. Oh, my god I’m so – I’m such a fan!” Barry grabs Harrison’s hand and shakes it like there’s no tomorrow. To his credit, Harrison neither winces nor snatches his hand away from Barry’s death grip. It’s Iris who pries eager Barry’s hand off Harrison’s with a look of “Now let the nice man go.” “Sorry!” Barry says. “I – I’m just so happy to meet you. It’s been my dream for years! Uh – anyway, can you sign this for me? It’s your biography, but I have a ton of articles written by you at home. Laminated to preserve them, of course!”

                Harrison takes the book from Barry and gives him a broad grin. “I love meeting my fans, Barry.”

                Barry practically melts when Harrison calls him by his first name. It’s endearing, he has to admit. With a quick swipe of his pen, Harrison signs Barry’s copy of his biography. Date or no date, he does enjoy meeting fans of his work and even signing books and magazines for the enterprising mind.

                “Thanks again, Dr. Wells, this is amazing!” Barry says as Harrison hand him the now signed book.

                “No problem, Barry,” he replies. “I’ll see you for your next shift, won’t I?”

                “I’m a CSI,” Barry replies, confused as to what Harrison is talking about.

                “He means me, Barry,” Iris says, laughter lacing her voice.

                “Oh, right! Sorry. I forgot you were – never mind!”

                “I believe we have a dinner date, Dr. Wells,” Iris says.

                And a choir of angels sang.

                “I believe we do, Iris,” Harrison replies. “And Harrison will do just fine.”

                “Alright, Harrison.”

                “Oh my god you called him by his first name,” Barry squeals quietly.

                “We can hammer out the details at a later date.”

                “I work tomorrow morning,” Iris supplies.

                “Until then. Nice meeting you, Barry. Have a great day.”

                He winks at Iris before making his way to the stairs leading to the second floor. He can’t help but hear Barry’s “YOU HAVE A DATE WITH HARRISON WELLS” in fact he’s sure the whole damn building heard it. That’s sure to stir up the gossip mill along with the information that he decided to lead this specific tour. He sighs. He’ll never hear the end of it now.


	3. Honey and Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison and Iris go on a date. Barry fangirl's from the house.

                Iris spends her next shift at work on cloud nine. Harrison stops by in the morning, as promised. He gets his usual coffee with a side of light flirtation. He hints at their date and checks to make sure she’s free Saturday night; if not he can reschedule with the restaurant, it’s no trouble at all. He’s very sweet about everything and even treats her to a goodbye wink on his way out. She can hardly wait for Saturday. Now she just has to decide on what to wear.

                Saturday night was upon her before she could blink. She was in her childhood bedroom of all places trying on dresses. Having Harrison pick her up here was Linda’s idea and it made a lot of sense at the time. “A safety thing,” Linda explained, “a way to make sure the guy doesn’t know your home address, but at the same time knows your dad is a cop with a gun and will shoot him in the face no matter how rich or famous he is.” And it really made sense. At the time.

                Now, of course, she’s fretting over dresses. Her dad has vetoed every single one she brought over to change into and Barry’s no help, he just sort of stares at her and nods. She curses their lack of help as she slips into a bright red dress. It’s part spite and part damn she looks good in this dress. It’s a little open back, off the shoulders, just above the knees number that’s sure to impress no matter where they go. Oh, god, what if he takes her somewhere like Big Belly Burger? The thought and ensuing laughter help her relax as she makes her way down the stairs.

                “How do I look?” she asks Barry and Joe hopefully.

                Joe turns from his position on the couch in unison with Barry. Barry opens his mouth and closes it a few times before nodding emphatically while Joe sighs.

                “I see you let your hair down,” Joe says.

                “Dad.”

                “You look good, baby. Perhaps too good. Maybe you should go roll around in the bushes for a while?” Joe says lightly.

                “Better than the hay,” Barry says.

                “Oh, my god, Barry,” Iris says softly.

                Thankfully the doorbell rings. She grabs her tan trench coat form the coat hook by the door before opening it to greet Harrison.

                “Oh, my god, Harrison Wells is at my house,” Barry says.

                As soon as she opens the door Harrison turns his head to face her. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit with a white button down. He even has a little red kerchief in his breast pocket. She smiles at him.

                “Hey, Harrison,” she greets. “I see we match.”

                He grins and she’s pretty sure she’s swooning. That grin is to die for and, wow, the way he’s eating her up with his eyes he’s probably too full for the meal they’re on their way to.

                “Hello, Iris,” Harrison returns. “I wasn’t sure what color to wear. I almost went with black, but, as the suit’s black I – hello!”

                Oh, god.

                “Hi there. Detective Joseph West,” Joe greets from behind Iris. Damn this sneaky man!

                “Dr. Harrison Wells.”

                “Yeah, I know.”

                Harrison’s smile doesn’t waver. “Great!” Harrison pulls a card from his pants pocket. “This is my personal cell should you need anything. I wrote the number and name of the restaurant on the back.”

                Iris grabs the card and passes it over her shoulder to Joe. It seems to be enough because as soon as the card is out of her hand, Joe is pushing her out the door.

                “Have fun, Iris,” he says before closing the door.

                “Thanks dad!” Iris says loudly to the now closed door.

                Both Harrison and Iris chuckle when they hear Barry scream “YOU HAVE HARRISON WELLS’ PERSONAL CELL PHONE NUMBER!”

                “Can I expect calls from one Barry Allen?” Harrison jokes.

                “I will try to limit him to once per day, but no promises,” Iris returns.

                Harrison nods, his grin widening. He holds out his hand and she takes it without hesitation. His hand is large and warm and she can feel a callous on his palm, but otherwise it’s soft. For moment she’s sure she felt a little spark between them, but she chalks it up to nerves. Harrison tucks her hand against his bicep and holy wow _that’s_ a bicep. She barely registers the short trip to his car. Of course it’s black. This man seems to love the color black. Ever the gentleman he opens the passenger door for her. Maybe she’ll get to feel that bicep later in the evening.

                At dinner, Iris is completely out of her element. Harrison chose a rather upscale French place. So upscale the entire menu is in French! She hasn’t taken a class in French since her freshman year of college as part of her language requirement. If only she had kept up with it.

                “Harrison,” Iris says, leaning across the table. When Harrison leans close she says, “I can’t read any of this.”

                “Oh,” Harrison says softly. “Oh, right. Right.” His blush is adorable. “Tell me what you like and I’ll order as close to it as possible.”

                Iris grins. “I see. You know what? I think I’ll let you order for me.”

                Harrison winks and her insides are sent aflutter. He summons the sommelier with a wave of his hand and orders what she assumes are appetizers paired with wine. She leans back in her chair and listens closely. She understands a few of the words that pass between Harrison’s lips and it doesn’t really matter if he’s saying “pants” or “carrots” or “I love cats” French plus his confident tone is pure sex. It should be illegal for him to speak another language. Maybe it should be illegal for him to speak English, too, just in case.

                “So,” Harrison says as he turns his full attention back to Iris, “what do you do outside of work?”

                “Oh, well, I’m currently working on a degree in psychology,” Iris says, smiling.

                “Psychology? I never would have guessed psychology,” Harrison replies. He’s obviously intrigued by this if the way he scoots his chair a little closer to the table is any indication. And it is.

                “I find the human mind to be _very_ interesting.”

                “Don’t we all. Is this your first or second degree?”

                “I’m actually in the Master’s program, so second technically.”

                “Smart and beautiful, a dangerous combination.”

                “I have a mean left hook, too,” she says saucily.

                “You box?” Harrison asks, leaning his body forward and resting his arms on the table.

                “I do indeed,” she replies, leaning forward as well.

                “I better be careful.”

                “You better.”

                Good food, good wine, and good company make for a great first date. It’s such a great date that by the time they reach the porch to her childhood home she doesn’t want the night to end at all. Harrison seems reluctant to let her go, he can’t seem to bring himself to untuck her hand from under his arm. It probably doesn’t help matters that she has a slight death grip on his bicep. It’s such a lovely bicep. When will she get to touch this godly bicep again? Oh, bicep. Sweet, sweet bicep. She’s so distracted by her bicep mapping that Harrison’s lips against hers are an unexpected by pleasant surprise. A kiss on the lips on the first date. Harrison’s a saucy minx, isn’t he. She sighs softly as she leans into the kiss, happy that he’s lowered his head just enough that she doesn’t have to be on her tiptoes to reach. Just as the kiss is getting good and she’s about to taste dessert on his lips, the porch light flashes twice. Dad is watching. Harrison takes it in stride, he even laughs and waves toward the windows.

                “I’ll see you later,” he promises.

                “Not if I see you first,” Iris says softly.

                “How about our eyes meet across a crowded coffee shop and we know that that’s the person we want to get to know better?”

                “Yeah,” she agrees, “I like that.”

                “Me, too.”

                Once inside, she watches him through the window. He waits until she’s back in the house to leave the porch. Which is just as well because Barry screams “YOU MADE OUT WITH HARRISON WELLS ON OUR PORCH” and, honestly, she’s just glad he doesn’t ask what he tasted like. If it was anything like the dessert they shared, he tasted like honey and chocolate. Suddenly, she found herself excited for work the next day. How strange and wonderful at the same time.


	4. Misunderstandings and Makeouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison and Iris suffer a misunderstanding. Then makeup and makeout.

                Harrison is on cloud nine the next few weeks. He can hardly believe how his luck in romance has changed. It’s been a while, a long while, since he’s dated anyone and even longer since he felt the budding romance could turn into a full-fledged relationship.

                He floated through the next few weeks happily bestowing encouraging words to his employees, firing fewer people, patting Jesse on the head at random, and generally being a happy guy. Everything was fine until his fifth date with Iris. He had taken her to his home; Jesse was staying at a friend’s so privacy was assured. They had almost made their way to his most comfortable couch for what he hoped was a repeat of the end of their last date with a little extra thrown in when Iris spotted pictures on his mantle. Pictures of Jesse, pictures of him and Jesse, pictures of him, Tess, and Jesse. Pictures of him and Tess when they were younger. Their wedding photos. A simple headshot of Tess with a small plaque listing her date of birth and her date of death. He never really spoke of Tess to anyone but Jesse, but Iris was curious and he let his mouth get away from him.

                “That’s Tess. My late wife,” he said. He joined her at the front of the fireplace. “She – uh – she passed thirteen years ago.”

                “I didn’t know that,” Iris replied softly.

                He fingered the frame holding Tess’ memorial headshot nervously.

                “I don’t really,” he paused to clear his throat, “I don’t really talk about her unless I’m talking to Jess.” He looked at Iris and smiled. “I still love her, of course. She’ll always be part of me, part of Jess. And I don’t regret what she and I had before she died.”

                Iris smiled at him before excusing herself for the evening. He was quite surprised by this turn of events. Everything had been going so well. He stopped into Jitters the following morning to a rather cool reception from the staff there. Had he done something wrong? Things went downhill from there. One of the employees he’d been too soft on blew up one of the labs, injuring six other members of staff including himself and forcing the shutdown of one of his research floors. There were more firings in the following weeks than there had been since the opening of S.T.A.R. Labs. It got to the point where Hartley had to step in and rehire, not-actually-fire people to keep everything balanced and when Hartley had to step in, Harrison knew he had seriously messed something up. So he left. He took a six-week sabbatical and disappeared from his day-to-day life. He stopped at Jitters only to wait in the car while Jesse grabbed a drink for herself. He tinkered in his private lab at home making nothing and everything and taking it all apart again just to get his mind off things. He ate when Jesse brought him food, otherwise he didn’t bother.

                When he returned to work six weeks later, he was greeted by a pile of paperwork that needed his signature: grants, research proposals, non-specific funding requests. He buried himself in his work to forget that the first time he had considered a serious relationship since Tess had ended in failure. And he didn’t know why. It didn’t matter now, did it? He stayed late at work, sometimes staying all night just to get away from his own thoughts.

                It is on such a that he has a guest. He’s dressed in nothing but his black slacks and white button down. No one will be anywhere near his office this late save for the occasional security guard so he takes off his shirt and, why not, his tank top too. No one’s around to see him half naked in his office. Not that he’s ashamed of his body, but he’s no show off. Well, except for the occasional accidental bicep flex. Or those times he stretches and his casual shirt rides up just enough to show off a bit of stomach. He chuckles to himself. He can be a little bit of a tease, can’t he? He loses himself in his thoughts until there’s a knock at his office door. He grabs his button down and slips it on as he approaches the door. Hopefully, it’s nothing important like another explosion.

                He opens the door to find Iris. She’s dressed in an absolutely gorgeous lemon yellow dress number with matching pumps.

                “Oh,” Iris exclaims, “I – uh – am I interrupting something?”

                Harrison looks behind him on reflex before turning his attention back Iris.

                “Wha – no, no. I – I’m here catching up on work,” he replies. Iris pointedly looks at his unbuttoned shirt. He looks down then back up. “I work better… naked.” _Dolt_. “Do you – do you want to come in or –”

                Iris shakes her head and it takes everything within him not to look at the floor and kick his feet in disappointment.

                “I missed you,” Iris says softly. “You stopped coming into Jitters and Jesse kept dropping hints that things weren’t okay with you. So I – just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”

                “I’m fine,” he lies. “We – we weren’t in a relationship so when you left that night it wasn’t a break up.” It sure felt like one. “No need to – to check up on me.”

                “I’m sorry,” Iris say. He tries to wave her off, but she plows forward. “I kind of freaked out over the pictures and my roommate, Linda, made it worse. I finally talked to my dad about it and he – he’s really good at giving advice when its advice you’ve actually asked for and not him just butting in.” She laughs a bit and he smiles at her. He loves her laugh. “Can we – can we start over?”

                “No,” he says. Her face falls, but before she can reply he takes a step toward her. “We can pick up where we left off. Like a – like a bookmark.”

                He must have said the right thing because she jumps into his arms and slams their mouths together. His laugh is muffled against her lips, but he doesn’t care. He has his Iris back. And the world was righted once more.


	5. Gossip Rags and Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris and Harrison finally do the do and enjoy breakfast in bed after. A gossip rag prints a picture.

                There’s something to be said about a man who works with his hands. Harrison is definitely working those hands. Under her dress, under her breasts, down her neck, down her sides. Wow. He’s good. He’s great. He’s _amazing_. And the way he stares at her, his clear blue eyes intense, pupils dilated, devouring her. He certainly missed her, didn’t he? She’s more than a little disappointed when his hands stop.

                “We should take this somewhere more private,” he murmurs.

                She nods. A bed would be much more comfortable than the small couch in his office. And the desk. And there was the bit where they sort of flailed their hands over the other against a wall.

                The ride to his house takes forever. In reality, it’s perhaps a twenty-minute drive, but he has his hand on her thigh the entire time. It’s the most pleasurable burn she’s ever felt. By the time they reach his house she’s more than ready to finish what they started in his office. And boy do they finish. It’s sweet torture the way Harrison drags his hands along her curves. When he replaces his hands with his lips, she’s certain she’s died and gone to heaven. Then she discovers just how wicked his tongue can be. Their coupling is sweet and slow, allowing her to savor every second, every thrust, every moan. Sated and exhausted, they fall asleep, Harrison holding her gently.

                The morning after is quite fantastic. Harrison serves her breakfast in bed, which is great because she really doesn’t feel like getting out of bed this morning. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, waffles, toast, bagels, fresh cut fruit, jam, butter, berry cream cheese, plain cream cheese, orange juice, apple juice; it’s as if he googled “breakfast” and picked everything he saw. Not that she’s complaining, he’s very sweet to have made all this for her. They spread out on his king-size mattress and have a little picnic.

                “I didn’t know what you liked,” Harrison says. He grabs a bagel and smears a healthy helping of cream cheese across its surface.

                “You could have asked,” Iris replies. Everything looks so good.

                “Mm, but that would ruin the surprise of post-coital breakfast in bed.”

                “Can I expect this each time?”

                “Not quite this large of a spread. I’ll learn your favorites and make those.”

                “ _Every_ time?”

                “If that pleases you.”

                “Great sex and food in bed. You might be stuck with me for a long time, Harrison,” she says. She means it, too.

                He just grins and practically inhales the half bagel in his hand.

                “So, what’s the plan for today?” she asks as she helps herself to eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit. She may need her energy after this.

                “Well, I forgot the honey in the kitchen, but jam’s a good substitute,” Harrison replies, eyeing her hungrily.

                They don’t leave the bed much that day. Their relationship takes off from there. Everything progress wonderfully until, one morning at work, Iris spots the early morning edition of a gossip rag. _HARRISON WELLS DATES WOMAN HALF HIS AGE_ reads the headline, but the most disturbing thing is the candid photograph of her and Harrison kissing outside of a restaurant. She calls Harrison as soon as she can.

                “I was notified a few minutes ago,” he says. “I’m very sorry for all this. They’ve run articles about me before. Speculation, pure fiction, and the like.”

                “You’re nothing but trouble, Dr. Wells,” Iris jokes.

                “Ah, but you love me anyway.”

                “If I have to.”

                “You must if you put up with me.”

                “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I do.”

                “Good. I’ll do what I can to keep this from hitting the local newspapers. In the meantime, you may want to take some time off work if at all possible.”

                “I’ll try, but it’s retail slash food service slash don’t call in sick unless you’re actually dead,” Iris quips.

                “I can call in a favor and get a replacement for your shifts,” Harrison offers.

                “You can do a lot, can’t you?”

                “Almost anything,” he preens.

                “Alright, mind if I hide out at your place?”

                “I have zero objections to that.”

                “I’ll come by tonight, I still have to work my shift today.”

                “Just ring the bell, Jess will let you in and I’ll get you a special key made.”

                “Sounds amazing. I’ll see you tonight.”

                “I look forward to it.”

                At least something wonderful came out of this strange mess she found herself in. As promised, Harrison called in a favor and had her replaced with another Jitters employee an hour after opening, which was a godsend because people kept eyeing her strangely and some were even so bold as to ask her if she was the “chick” on the front of the gossip rag and what Harrison was like in bed because they were “obviously fucking, am I right?” Sometimes, she really hated people.


	6. Of Love and New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

                It’s years later when Iris comes across the clipping she took from the gossip rag. It’s funny to think of it now, but that was when she knew Harrison was the one for her. He handled the situation with aplomb and grace, instead offering the Central City newspaper a wonderful tidbit of information regarding the particle accelerator project S.T.A.R. Labs had under development. CCPN took the tidbit and ran with it, adding a little addendum that Harrison Wells had, indeed, found love again, was quite happy, thank you for your concern. He may or may not have bought out the gossip rag a week later and repurposed it into a scientific rumors rag. Something much more educational, he had told her. She just laughed.

                After receiving her Masters in Psychology, Harrison and Iris wed in a small ceremony attended by a sobbing Barry Allen (he loved weddings and, hoooh my god, his best friend was marrying his idol), a happy Joe, an absolutely gleeful Jesse, and Wally, who had reconnected with Joe and Iris just a few months earlier.

                Their life was normal, even after the twins were born. There were no metas, no particle accelerator explosion, and no body snatching time-traveling freakmos from the future. They had trials and tribulations like everyone else, but, in the end, theirs was a happily ever after.


End file.
